


(Re)discovery

by HealthInspector



Series: PMD Writings [9]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pokemon Mystery Dungeon, Pokemon Super Mystery Dungeon
Genre: 5 Things, Developing Friendships, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28634016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HealthInspector/pseuds/HealthInspector
Summary: An amnesic human-turned-Treecko copes with his loss of memories by learning as much as he can, however he can. During his time in Serene Village, he rediscovers five small but important things with the help of the crazy kid next door.
Relationships: Partner Pokemon & Player Character (Pokemon Mystery Dungeon)
Series: PMD Writings [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1395541
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	(Re)discovery

(i) rain

The Treecko awoke to a rhythmic and unfamiliar tapping on the roof. That was new. Curiosity, ever familiar, took root in his mind as he stumbled out of bed and to the window; looking out, he spotted a grey sky. It took him a moment to process that.

The sky wasn’t blue, the way it usually was during the day.

Nor was it night black and dotted with stars.

_Grey._

Aster knew his lack of memories meant he’d run into loads of things he didn't immediately recognize. He liked to think that, given the circumstances, he’d coped well with the events in the last two days. Woke up in a forest not knowing anything? Okay. Attacked in said forest by dangerous strangers? No problem! Forced to stay with Nuzleaf, someone whom he’d known for less than a day? Sure.

So a grey sky, all things considered, wasn’t that big of a deal. He opened his mouth intending to ask Nuzleaf about this, then he realized that the other Pokemon had left yesterday on some sort of business. The only other Pokemon he could think to ask was…

A loud, cheery voice tore his attention away from the window.

“Yoo-hoo! Aster! Good mo-o-orning!”

A violent pounding on the front door followed the greeting. He knew from experience it was best to open the door before it broke off of the hinges. The first attempt at walking across the room resulted in him losing his balance and falling onto his back; the Treecko still wasn't accustomed to his massive plant tail. The second try went better. He had to lean heavily on the wall just to reach the door, but at least he didn’t fall over.

On the front porch stood a familiar Riolu, grinning ear to ear. The grass behind her was dark and matted because tiny drops of water were falling from the darkened sky. The air was cold and smelled of earth and mud. Everything was wet: the trees, the houses, the dirt, even the Riolu.

“Come on, let’s walk to school together! If we hurry we’ll probably make it before the bell rings,” she said.

“Uh…Vallea,” he started, but the Riolu kept talking.

“I hope class is inside today,” Vallea said. “Farfetch’d keeps talking about how ‘misery builds character’ or whatever, but I really, _really_ don’t want to sit out in the rain all day. It takes my fur hours to dry, and my Pops gets mad when I get the floor wet.”

_Rain._ Something stirred in Aster's brain.

“The thing that’s happening right now with the sky and the water and the dripping, is that rain?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Vallea tilted her head, her aura tassels hanging limply. “When water falls from the sky, it’s called rain. Have you never seen it before?”

“Ehm…”

Nuzleaf had told him to keep his true identity and lack of memories a secret. It was already bad enough that a mysterious kid had popped up out of nowhere; the last thing they needed was more suspicion cast upon him for no good reason. Thankfully, Vallea started talking before the Treecko could come up with a proper excuse.

“Oh, you must be from the Sand Continent! It never rains over there!” she said, eyes gleaming with wonder. “I’ve never met anyone from the Sand Continent. What's it like? Is it hot? Are there deserts? Ancient ruins?”

“I…uh…”

“You know what? I bet there are. I’d love to visit someday. I wanna see the whole world! Life’s too short to just waste away in this little—”

Aster waved his arms to catch her attention. “How often does this ‘rain’ occur? Is it every other day? Once a week?”

“I dunno. We can ask the guys at school about it! Are we gonna be late? We are, aren’t we? We should’ve left five minutes ago.” She tried to pull him out of the house by his arm, but he grabbed onto the door frame and kept his feet firmly planted to the floor. Her paws were drenched in water, most of which had moved to his scales.

“W-what happens when the rain touches you?” he asked.

“You get wet! It’s not that bad, trust me on this. I’m standing out here in the rain and I’m having the time of my life!”

The Treecko hovered anxiously in the doorway, his arm growing numb in the Riolu’s clutches. He jerked it free, rubbed the feeling back into it, then tentatively inched it out of the roof’s protection and into the rain.

It felt like a thousand tiny needles were poking his arm at the same time. A thousand frozen pricks all over his skin— _scales,_ he remembered. He had scales. He was a Treecko. Not a human.

_This wasn't even his body. It never would be._

His heartbeat had sped up without him noticing, and his breath came in shallow gasps. He pulled his arm back to safety and shook the water off of it as he retreated into the house.

“Nope,” he said. “Nope, nope, nope. Not going out there. Hate it. It’s too much at once.”

“You hate the rain? But…we still need to go to school, and there’s no way of avoiding the rain when we’re walking outside. Watchog will kill me if I skip again, and we can't have you getting on his bad side either…” She tapped her chin, deep in thought, then gasped. “I’ve got an idea! Wait right here. I’ll be back in just a second!”

Vallea turned tail and sprinted down the dirt path to the village plaza, out of view. A few moments later, there was an awful loud splashing and someone shouting in the distance, followed by the Riolu’s hasty apology; judging by where the sounds came from, she was headed for the hill with the big tree. It stood far away on the horizon, a washed-out silhouette against the monochrome sky. The tree was…shaking for some reason. First it swayed to one side, then to the other, and then back again, growing stronger to the point where it seemed like the tree would tip over, creaking loudly as roots burst out of the ground.

Finally, the tree came to a halt as something fell out of it. Aster’s gaze instinctively flitted to the forest to check for any of the mysterious Pokemon hunting him. Thankfully there were none, and the tension in his shoulders lessened somewhat. Maybe they didn’t like the rain either.

Footsteps splashed through the mud and puddles. Vallea approached, looking very proud with a massive, deep green leaf clutched in her paws. It was taller than her and wide enough for multiple Pokemon to stand on. Aster stared in awe.

“Where did you get a leaf of that size?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She stepped up to the door and raised the leaf above her head. “Try getting underneath this. It'll block the rain!”

“…Are you sure?”

“My Pops once said there are only two constants in life. But I’ve found a third. Wanna know what it is?”

Aster blinked at the non sequitur. “Sorry?”

“The third constant of life is that this leaf will block the rain. Until it rots, that is,” she said, and beckoned him over. “Come on, get in here. It'll be fun!”

The time they had before the start of school was trickling away. The rain was only getting stronger, reinforcements arriving to support the army of cold water drops currently assaulting the earth. Hiding beneath a leaf wasn’t a guaranteed solution, but it was certainly better than standing out in the open.

Aster took a single shaky step forward. Then another. And then another, and suddenly he was under the makeshift shelter. It took him a moment to realize that the rain wasn’t touching him. None of it was. The drops were all bouncing off of the leaf and splashing harmlessly onto the dirt.

“W-wow. It works,” he said. He shifted from one foot to the other, still unsteady, then lost his balance entirely. Vallea caught him before he hit the ground, and pulled him up to his feet again. To her credit, she didn't mention his fall. 

“Pretty spiffy, right?" she said instead. "This is one of my better ideas, if I may say so myself.”

The Treecko marveled at the feat of engineering above him. A simple leaf applied in a way that he never would have thought of, with the result being an island of dryness among the falling water.

“Wow,” he said again.

* * *

(ii) lying

Vallea held out a handful of curved purple berries. “Have some.”

Aster obliged. An overwhelming sweetness erupted all over his taste buds as soon as the fruit’s skin broke. The flesh was spongy and juicy, more so than anything he’d ever eaten before. He forced it down as quickly as he could and took a deep breath. “Sweet,” he managed to force out. “Really sweet.”

“If you think that’s sweet, just wait till you hear my idea. These babies are called Mago berries,” she said, then popped several berries into her mouth.

“Mago berries,” he repeated while she chewed. They were standing on the dirt path leading from the school to the village plaza. On one side stood dark woods shadowed from the sunlight, and on the other a massive field of green and gold plants that were each twice his height. The plants swayed to and fro in the gentle spring breeze. What had Vallea called them? Beet? Sleet? Something along those lines. They were apparently edible, but a single taste of the stem had quickly disproved that theorem.

“They’re from my Pops’ orchard,” Vallea said after swallowing. “He grows a bunch of different berries there, some of which I’ve never even heard of. But here’s the problem: Pops harvests these berries himself and keeps the best of the bunch to sell at the market. You know which berries we get to eat?”

He thought for a second. “Not the good ones, because the good ones are for selling.”

“Exactly! So I’ve been thinking: If the berries we eat are the worst ones he harvests, how do the best ones taste? There’s gotta be a reason why his berry sales are always so successful, right? Just imagine how sweet and juicy they are!”

“I think I see where this is going. Vallea, are you going to—” 

She covered his mouth before he could say any more. She looked up and down the dirt path, checking for anyone approaching from the village. After making sure the surroundings were safe, she removed her paw.

“I’m gonna try some, and you’re gonna come with!” she said, grinning proudly. She offered him another Mago berry, then shrugged and shoveled down the rest when he refused.

He tilted his head, narrowed his eyes. “This is what your father was mad about the other day, isn’t it? He was upset because you stole some berries from his orchard, and now you’re gonna do it again—and this time you’re dragging me along!”

“Okay, but the berries I swiped from the orchard were so much better than the ones he has at home! They were…” She mimed a chef’s kiss, the same way her father did. “They were glorious. So I know this’ll be worth it! And he doesn’t just grow Mago or Oran berries there: He's got Pomegs, Leppas, Bluks, Watmels, Spelons—”

“I have no idea what any of those are.”

“Me neither, that's what makes it so exciting! The only berries he ever cooks up at home are the Orans, and I’m getting a little sick of them. I love my Pops’ cooking, don’t get me wrong, but a girl needs some variety!”

The Treecko exhaled through his teeth. “What’s your plan for when your father catches you?”

_“If_ Pops catches me, not when, then that’s when you’ll come in,” Vallea said. “He already knows my excuses—getting lost, having an adventure, inspecting the plants for diseases, he’s heard them all—but he considers you a ‘model child.’”

“Model child? Does he know about that time we sneaked into the mines?”

“Nope, and let’s keep it that way. If my old Pops catches us, which isn’t very likely, your word will count for a whole lot more than mine! As a Sand Continent immigrant, you could say I was…educating you on the finer points of berry agriculture.”

“But I'm not from the…" Aster stopped himself before he could reveal his human identity. 

"You're not from where?"

"...Never mind. And about the berry education: That's not what we’ll be doing.”

“I know! We’ll get a taste of berries straight off the branch, and Pops won’t be any wiser!”

“Why would we say one thing and do another? That’s not the truth.”

“That’s the whole point.”

“But…”

The concept of not telling the truth was alien to him. Logically it made sense, especially considering the circumstances, but he couldn’t quite figure out how telling a falsehood would work. Wouldn’t Carracosta be able to tell he was lying? It seemed like he would.

“It’ll work out,” Vallea said, apparently oblivious to his confusion. “All you have to do is come up with a suitable excuse! Now let's go!”

“Hang on, I don’t get it. Should I make something up or—” he started, but she had already grabbed his paw and started pulling him down the path. 

Before he knew it they had reached the orchard. Rows upon rows of trees stretched out for miles, surrounded by rickety wooden fences that seemed better for sending a message than actually keeping anyone out. Every tree was positively buried in berries dangling off of the branches, shining in the warm sun between the deep green leaves. The berries wore every color he could think of: blue, green, purple, pink, orange, red, indigo, and several others that he didn’t even know the names of. Fragrant and unknown scents wafted through the air.

The Riolu vaulted over the closest fence with an ease that could only come from years of practice. “I knew it! It is harvest time! Just look at all of these berries! There must be hundreds! It's like they’re all calling to me! ‘Eat me, eat me now!’”

“I’m at least sixty percent sure berries can’t talk,” Aster said, trying and failing to replicate her fence-jumping feat. The body of a Treecko was still incredibly unfamiliar. His arms felt too long, his legs too short. And the massive plant tail was simply terrible for balance. He settled for a clumsy scrabble over the fence’s lowest point. “Is your father anywhere nearby?”

“Nopity-nope! I specifically chose today because he said he’d be busy with something; I don’t remember what.” Her voice took on a dramatic flair as she continued, “Now come, my partner in crime! We have berries to sample!”

She snagged a pair of bright magenta berries from the closest tree and tossed one to him. The fruit was as big as his head! It had a smooth and hard surface, and it seemed to be swelling even larger as he looked on. Upon a bite, he discovered a dry texture and a medley of sweet and sour flavors.

“It’s so _good!”_ Vallea shouted joyfully. Having already finished her berry, she was now scanning the trees for her next target. “You see, this is what I was telling you about! These kinds of berries are probably the ones that Pops saves for selling! Can you taste the difference? These ones taste so much better!”

“Yeah…this flavor is new.” Aster took another bite. “It’s not bad, though. Definitely not bad. I can see why you sneak in here so much. What other kinds of berries does your father grow?”

“I’m glad you asked!” she said, grinning mischievously. “Let's take a look around, shall we?”

Vallea proceeded to take him along on a long tour of the berry orchard, sampling berries the likes of which he’d never seen or tasted before. Some were sour, others spicy, and a select few were (surprisingly) bitter. Her excitement soon spread to him. Each and every new fruit was an expansion of his culinary horizons, promising brand new flavors and textures. Eventually, the two found that they were completely, utterly full. Their flavor-discovering crusade came to an end at the other end of the orchard; they sat against the old, worn-out fence in quiet contentment.

Well, Aster’s contentment was quiet. Vallea’s was…

“This was totally worth the risk,” she said for the fourth time. “I didn’t even know bitter and spicy berries were a thing, I thought they were all sweet or sour! Did you know about them?”

“No, I didn’t know about any of this. It's all very…novel.”

“Exactly! Pops was holding out on us! Who would’ve known that he grows these crazy kinds of berries?”

“I have tried to educate you about my orchard several times, child,” said a deep voice. A tension crept up Aster’s neck as Vallea grew very still. “Never paid attention to my lectures, eh?”

Vallea sat silently, her eyes flicking this way and that. Aster turned slowly to find a large, blue, very familiar turtle standing behind them, leaning casually on the other side of the fence. Carracosta’s expression was unreadable, his face a stone wall. A quiet exhale came from Vallea, followed by a cheery smile directed at her father as she sprang to her feet. “H-hey, Pops! I didn’t know you were, uh, coming.”

Carracosta sighed. “I had a gut feeling you would sneak in and have an illicit snack. Seems I was correct.”

“Oh, ye of little faith! Aster and I didn’t touch a single one of your berry trees. Right, Aster?” Still smiling, she pulled the Treecko to his feet. “Tell Pops what we were doing!”

“Oh! Uh, um…” Aster’s gaze fell to the ground. He could feel Carracosta staring at him, and the sensation was uncomfortable, to say the least. It felt like Carracosta was looking into his soul to extract the secrets hidden within. He racked his brains for something to say. There had to be a proper excuse for this, right? “We were…inspecting your trees for diseases.”

“Nope, no! That’s not what we were doing!” Vallea shouted, giving him a significant look. “My old buddy here was just telling a joke! Ha, ha!”

“…Right, right,” Aster said earnestly. “You were telling me about this earlier, weren’t you? The ‘inspecting for diseases’ excuse doesn’t work on your father. It’s the same with telling him that we got lost, or that we were having an adventure. He doesn’t believe—”

“We don’t need to tell him any excuses, because we weren’t doing anything that requires an excuse!”

“But…you said earlier that I have to come up with a ‘suitable excuse’. Do I not have to anymore?”

His eyes darted to Carracosta and back. The old Pokemon was looking…amused?

Vallea stared at him, lost for words. Then she blew out a long sigh and covered her face.

“What’s wrong?” Aster asked. “Did I mess this up?”

* * *

(iii) apologies

“You look a mite glum,” Nuzleaf said. He was sitting on a small wooden stool, watering a wilting potted plant on the windowsill.

Aster stood in the doorway, unsure of how to respond.

“What’re you waitin’ for? Come in, come in. How was school?”

“We lost Goomy in the school forest,” Aster said as he entered the house.

“Well, did you find him?”

“Yeah.”

“So how come you look so down in the dumps?” Nuzleaf said, looking up from the plant. “Was the little guy hurt or somethin’?”

“No, but Vallea and I both got an earful from Farfetch’d for losing him. On our way home, Vallea asked me if I thought she was annoying.”

Nuzleaf sighed. “Did you say yes?”

“…Yeah.”

“She didn’t take it well, I reckon.”

“No.”

Nuzleaf set the watering can down. “Now why’d you go and tell her that?”

“Because it’s the truth!” Aster snapped. His chest felt hot and the words tumbled out clumsily, emotions bursting out in a torrent. “She’s always rushing on ahead to whatever she happens to be interested in, never mind what anyone else wants! We only lost Goomy because she ran away to find some stupid flag! And she can’t stop talking, either. I didn’t even think it was possible to talk as much as she does. All I ever hear is ‘blah, blah, blah!’ So why shouldn't I tell her she’s annoying?”

Nuzleaf patted the air in a calming gesture. “Don’t get me wrong, kid. I’m not denyin’ that she can be a bit much sometimes. But I’ve known her all her life, and I can say that she really does mean well, even if it doesn’t always seem that way.”

“Pancham makes fun of her seven times a day, and everyone else at school isn't that nice to her, either!” he said, but the anger in his chest was already fading. “Shouldn’t she be used to everyone calling her annoying by now?”

“Well, I reckon it hurt so much specifically because it came from you.”

Aster furrowed his brow trying to make sense of that. “What do you mean?”

“Try lookin’ at it this way,” Nuzleaf said. “You like sunny days and hate rainy days, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s say you get a whole bunch of rainy days in a row. You’ll get used to the rain, and it won’t bother you so much. But what if that rain came right after a few sunny days? Maybe three, maybe four of ‘em.”

“Then…it’ll stick out more. But what does that have to do with, well, any of this?” Aster said.

“That kid’s used to Pancham and all those other brats tearin’ into her. It doesn’t hurt so much; it's just part of her life now,” Nuzleaf said, then pointed at him. “But you? You were a wee bit kind to her, and that made all the difference. I reckon you were like her sunshine for a few days. She seemed a whole lot happier, from what I could tell. But now you’ve gone and rained all over her parade.”

“Because I called her annoying?”

“Yeah. She didn’t expect it from you, I guess. There might've been a better way to phrase it. Probably was, in fact. But that's in the past now.” Nuzleaf turned back to the plant and picked up his watering can. “You feel bad about it, right?”

Aster sighed, looked away. “Yeah.”

“Then I reckon you should just square up and apologize to her, kid. Tell her you’re sorry for what you said and did, and don’t go doin’ it again, you hear?”

“Apologize,” Aster repeated. It made sense. Put the regret into words and show that he’s willing to change. Seemed simple enough.

But the next day at school, he just couldn’t work up the courage to apologize to Vallea. There were loads of opportunities to do so—she sat right next to him, for crying out loud! Each time he tried, something grew tight in his chest and the words died in his throat, replaced by a host of worries. Maybe she wouldn’t forgive him. Maybe she hated him now. Maybe he’d pushed away the only real acquaintance he had in this strange new world.

As usual, other problems came up as the day went on. When Pancham asked where Aster was from, the Treecko decided to take a risk and reveal the truth. Predictably, nobody believed he was a human. After that, word got out that a kid was missing—Budew, likely on her way to Nectar Meadow in search of honey for her sick mother. All she would find was a flower-filled labyrinth filled with territorial Pokemon that were fatal for a little one like her. In absence of any proper support from the others at school, the Treecko ran off alone to find and retrieve the little one before it was too late. He didn't expect anyone to follow him.

“Aster, wait up!” shouted a familiar voice.

A set of footsteps approached from behind. His heart sank. He knew who it was. A part of him wished it were anyone else—Deerling or Espurr, or even Pancham. But this was fitting, in a way: a chance to set things right. He turned around and spotted Vallea sprinting up the dirt path towards him. He forced himself to meet her eyes. His heart pounded in his chest and his paws were tingling—dread or panic, he couldn’t tell which. He swallowed, then started talking.

“Hey, I’m really—”

“I did it, I skipped school too!” she said as she approached. “This is exciting, isn’t it? A pair of aspiring explorers, off to rescue an innocent child!”

He tried again. “Vallea, I shouldn't have—”

“What're you standing around for? Watchog is probably coming after us right now, and we need to move our tails if we want to find Budew before it’s too late.” She grabbed him and pulled him along as she raced down the path. “Nectar Meadow is filled to the brim with bug and poison types. Both are bad news for you, so I think you should stay behind me and try doing that purple fire breath thingy—”

“Listen, _please!”_

Aster pulled free of her grip and screeched to a halt. Vallea stopped as well, tilting her head. He took a deep breath, then started speaking before he could lose his nerve again. The words burst out of him all at once, like water breaking through a dam.

“I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. Yeah, you can be annoying sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I should’ve torn into you like that. And how come you’re so friendly with me? I thought you’d hate me! You should be angry right now, not excited!”

Vallea stared at him for a heartbeat. Then she covered her mouth and turned away. Her shoulders shook as she suppressed something. At first he thought she was finally upset, but then it became clear that she was…giggling. He stared in disbelief. After a few seconds she regained enough composure to turn back around, a smile on her face.

“It’s okay, Aster. To be honest, I know I can be too much sometimes. It’s…difficult for me to know when to stop, you know? A lot of the time I sort of forget about other people and what they want. So I appreciate you being honest yesterday. And, well, I knew you felt bad about it ever since you moped into school today.”

“…How did you know? Was it that obvious?”

“It wasn’t your face that gave it away,” the Riolu said, then tugged at one of the tassels on the side of her head. “I can sense auras. So I can kind of detect the emotions of anyone who’s close by. And you, my friend, were radiating regret all day.”

“Huh,” he said. Then, “I’m still sorry, though.”

“I’m sorry, too. Are we good?”

“Yeah. We’re good.”

“In that case, _let's go already!”_ Vallea broke into an abrupt sprint and blew past him, grabbing onto him and yanking him along. It was rushed and frantic and wholly unexpected, but he found that a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders as the two ran to Nectar Meadow.

* * *

(iv) support

“Have you ever been to a sleepover?” Vallea asked as she sat down on the floor. “Wait, probably not. No memories, right? Ooh, this is so exciting! I have so much to show you!”

“I’m still not sure about this. A sleepover is very...personal, don’t you think? A bedroom is like a representation of the Pokemon who sleeps in it,” Aster said, fidgeting with the Harmony Scarf tied around his neck.

“In that case, consider this a baring of my soul,” she said, grinning. 

Vallea’s room was different in some ways than what he had expected. The place was a mess, sure, but it wasn’t a random, disorganized mess. Dozens of old, hand-drawn maps of Serene Village and the surrounding area decorated the wooden walls, and huge tomes detailing faraway lands lay scattered on the floor surrounding her bed. A single candle on the desk cast a deep yellow, wavering light through the night’s shadows. Every little object cut the candlelight into shadows creeping down the walls. Despite the clutter, the Riolu bounced between the books and papers with a confidence that meant she knew exactly where everything was. She picked up a worn, dog-eared textbook titled _World History: Map by Map_. 

“Take a look at this one!” she said, tossing the book to where Aster sat. “Did you know that nobody knows what lies past the Grass Continent? If you head there and swim southeast for a few hours, you’ll be in uncharted territory! Crazy, right?”

A few sheets of paper slipped out of the tome as it flew through the air and drifted slowly to the floor. Aster caught the textbook and opened it, but he barely managed to get a glimpse of the inside before Vallea found something else to show off.

“Oh, and you really need to see this!” she said, then launched another book at him, this time hitting him in the head. “It says that apparently there were three apocalypses in recent history! _Three!_ Can you believe it?! You'd think they’d start an apocalypse-prevention committee or something, but no. I guess everyone’s just happy to sit around and wait for the next world-ending disaster.”

“Hold on a moment. You think there'll be another apocalypse?” Aster said. He picked up the second book and peeked inside in search of any details.

“Well it’s only a matter of time, right?”

“I certainly hope not. With any luck, our days will remain peaceful.”

“But if something does happen, then I’ll be ready to stop it!” Vallea sprung to her feet and threw a few punches. “Especially if I join the Expedition Society. I bet they’ve got loads of really cool and strong fighters, and they’ll be able to teach me all kinds of things that I would never have learned in this crummy little village.”

Aster set the book on the floor. “Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows? Could be that they’re nothing but a bunch of shut-in cartography nerds.”

“They go out to dangerous, wild places on a regular basis! I’m sure they know a thing or two about fighting—”

A blinding flash lit up the room for a brief moment, followed by a loud clap sounding off through the house. Countless papers took off from the floor, swirling around the room like a flock of birds. The wind sang a piercing, cold song, forced open the window, and blew out the candle. The bedroom became dark, like a sack had been thrown over Aster's head. His heart leapt into his throat. He froze, shoulders and neck tense. A rhythmic, recognizable tapping grew noticeable: probably rain falling through the open window. Not that he could see it, of course. The candle was gone and the moonlight couldn’t reach them through the storm clouds.

The Treecko heard a slow, measured inhale, and then a pale blue light on the other side of the room lit up the darkness. It smelled of smoke and metal and it came from Vallea, who was holding it up like a torch. Her eyes were wide as saucers and her arms trembled as she moved across the room to shut the window. Slowly, ever so slowly, she crouched down close to him.

“It’s storming,” she whispered shakily.

It took him a second to remember how to speak. “Y-yeah.”

“Have you ever seen a storm before?”

“No, but I read about it. It’s basically a really strong rain, right?”

Her only response was a quiet whimper.

The rain pounded on the roof like it was demanding entrance. Aster hugged his knees to his chest and tried not to think about how it would feel if the drops hit his scales. His oversized plant tail lay uncomfortably on the floor, an unwelcome weight. Vallea spoke again, and he was glad for the distraction.

“You think the thunder woke Pops up?”

“Maybe,” he murmured. “If we hear footsteps in the hall then we’ll know for sure.”

“But if we hear footsteps, then it might be…” She swallowed, and her light flickered. “It might be a ghost. Are there g-ghosts outside in the night?”

“Ghosts? I…don't think so. They’re probably hiding from the rain, same as we are. Hopefully they’re not hiding in your house.”

The window flashed white and the sky roared once more. The Riolu grabbed onto his arm with her free paw and squeezed hard enough to hurt. Then came a very odd sensation. It was like watching someone plummet off a cliff, except he was also the person falling, somehow. The only way he could describe it was feeling the fear of two people at once. The Riolu gasped sharply, and the fear faded somewhat.

Aster turned to her. “Did you just…?”

“Sorry, sorry. Can't help it.” Vallea inhaled slowly, then exhaled. “It’s this weird aura thing. I feel other people’s emotions, but sometimes they feel mine too, if it’s bad enough.”

“...You’re really scared, huh?”

She tightened her grip on him. “Yeah.”

An idea came to him. Words had power over others. If he could just figure out the right thing to say, then maybe she wouldn’t be as scared anymore. And if she wasn’t scared, then maybe he wouldn’t be scared, either. But what was he supposed to tell her? He blew out a long breath, then awkwardly reached out and patted her back.

“It’s, uh, fine,” he said. “This storm will only last for a night, tops.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s still frightening, though. I’ve never been good with these kinds of things. Storms, ghosts, the dark…” She met his eyes, her expression unexpectedly vulnerable. “Do you think I’m a coward for being scared of this?”

“You, a coward? Nah,” he said. “A coward wouldn’t be able to do half the things you do on a daily basis. Why, I reckon that you’re the least cowardly person I know.”

“Thanks. And, well…”

“Yeah?”

“You reckon?” she said through a chortle. All of a sudden, there wasn't a trace of fear visible in her expression. “I’m sorry, I really am. I know you’re trying to help, but I’ve never heard you talk that way before! You sound just like Nuzleaf!”

“…Huh,” he said, then adopted an affected drawl. “Well, whaddya know? Ain’t that darn tootin’. Why, I reckon I do sound just like my dear ol’ pa.”

Vallea laughed at that, and he felt a warmth in his chest at the sight. The storm still raged outside, thunder booming and rain slamming on the window, but it didn’t seem so bad anymore. Not when she was with him.

* * *

(v) joy

Once a year, Serene Village hosted a celebration on the summer solstice. The tradition went back for centuries, possibly to when the village had first been founded. The intent was to honor the longest day of the year by spending it on festivities. Aster only knew that because he’d spent four hours holed up in the school library, tearing through every history book they had. Technically the school was closed for summer vacation, but nobody was around to actually enforce that rule. Everyone was occupied setting up the festival in the plaza. The funny thing was, the books devoted hundreds of pages to when and where the celebratory tradition had started, but there wasn't even a single mention of what, exactly, celebrating was.

Now, standing in the plaza and staring dumbly at the Pokemon milling around in the summer evening, the Treecko still didn’t understand what it meant to celebrate. Long strings with red and yellow ribbons traced lines through the crimson sky from house to house. Carracosta and Kangaskhan were setting up countless tables of food—soups, salads, breads, pies, and a whole bunch of other dishes with new unknown smells. A group of unfamiliar Pokemon stood before the cafe, playing loud and cheerful music. A large commotion had started near the river; the crowds of Pokemon blocked him from seeing what the cause was. The plaza was unrecognizable. Not for the first time, Aster felt lost.

“There you are!”

Footsteps sounded off to his left, and Vallea approached with an ecstatic smile glued to her face. She was chewing on something, likely the curved purple berries she was holding—Mago berries, he remembered. She swallowed, tilted her head. Her eyes went unfocused for a moment.

“Feeling confused again?” she asked, tossing him a berry.

He caught it and shrugged. “Yeah. Not entirely sure what we’re supposed to be doing here.”

“It’s a festival! We’re supposed to have a good time.”

“Okay, but…how?” he said, staring at the ground. He could feel her looking at him.

“What do you mean, how?” she said.

“How do we have a good time?”

“Uh…I never really thought about it before.” Vallea munched thoughtfully on another berry, then around it she said, “It’s not something you can really define. You sort of get out there and do whatever you want. I bet Espurr’s idea of a good time is a quiet evening at home, not a huge party. Look at her!” She pointed across the plaza at their fellow student, who was lurking in a corner and looking more than a little bored.

“So…the definition of having a good time varies for each person.”

“Exactly!”

“What’s a good time for you?”

“Oh, come on. You should know that already!” she said, laughing. “I love going out and exploring the wilds, seeing what lies within. And seeing the smiling faces of people I help is nice, too.”

A large cheer came up from the river and the crowds parted to reveal Lombre wading to the shore. Aster nodded toward the river. _Shall we?_ Vallea cracked a lopsided grin. _Let’s go._

At the riverside, they spotted the source of all the commotion. Behind Lombre swam an army of tiny wooden boats, each carrying a small candle. They floated and bobbed in the river’s burbling current, framed by the massive scarlet sun. The little lights on the water’s surface were like a reflection of the stars above the horizon, forming a second sky. The boats slowly made their way down the river, toward the sun.

“Wow,” Aster whispered.

“I always loved this part,” Vallea said. “Pancham's mom is the one who makes all those boats, did you know that? It takes her weeks! And now she gets to stand there and watch all of her hard work just float away. Seems like a waste of wood to me, but what do I know?”

“I…read about this. In the library.” 

She made an exaggerated gasp. “But the library’s closed! You sneaked in, didn’t you? Have you become—dare I say it—a _rule-breaker?”_

“Very funny,” he said, playfully shoving her as she laughed. “The little candles floating away represent us giving the light back to the sun, which is why the days will start to get shorter. Less light for us means longer nights, or something like that,” he said.

As the minutes passed, the boats drifted further and further away from the sleepy village. The sun completed its journey across the sky, dipping below the horizon and leaving the village with its pink and red afterglow. The Pokemon fell silent, conversations fading as though the little crafts had carried them away. Eventually the boats were nothing more than a sprinkling of tiny lights in the distance. Aster wondered if they would make it all the way to the ocean, or if they would sink in the river or get stuck in algae before they could complete their journey.

“What about you?” Vallea asked.

“What do you mean?”

“What's your idea of a good time?”

“…I’m not sure,” Aster said, staring down at the river. In the reflection, a Treecko looked up at him—this was what he had become. It wasn't his body. Never would be. But maybe that wasn’t so bad. A Riolu moved into frame, looking forward instead of down. Her eyes were bright and hopeful. She looked at the reflection, then her mouth fell open. She gasped, this time for real.

“Look!” she shouted, pointing at his face in the reflection. “I knew it! Pancham, come over here and look! He _can_ smile!”

“That’s not a smile!” Pancham yelled in the distance. “That’s just his mouth twitching!”

“Nuh uh! It is a smile! Show him, Aster. Come on, show him!” She turned Aster around and pointed at his face. Pancham stood a few feet away, his arms folded. He narrowed his eyes, then scoffed and walked away to the food tables. “I was right!” she shouted after him.

“Hang on. What’s happening?” Aster said.

“Pancham told me you had a freak accident when you were little, and it left your face paralyzed so you couldn’t smile,” Vallea said.

“What, and you believed him?”

“Well…yeah? It didn’t seem that unreasonable when we first met,” she said. “You always had the same blank face. But then I saw you get scared of the rain, and I realized your face couldn’t be paralyzed because you’d just moved it. I’ve been waiting for you to smile so I could prove Pancham wrong. And I did!”

Aster stared at her incredulously. Her shoulders squared, she stood proudly as though she’d won a major award, not a petty argument. The corners of his mouth turned upward, and a strange twitching took root in his chest.

For the first time he could remember, he laughed.


End file.
